Mythology
by Pointless Things
Summary: My S/T Secret Valentine Fic for the wonderful whatsthisautumnsorcery. Tom goes on an adventure that will change his life, but will his journey come at a price?
1. Thirst

SURPRISE! This is my Valentine's Day Fic Exchange for whatisthisautumnsorcery!

I kind of went overboard with the prompt and took it to a whole other level when I started to plan it out in my mind and started to do research into Irish and English mythology. I hope you like it and I hope I did your prompt justice!

I spent a great deal of time researching Irish and English myths and legends as well as the history where the legend stories take place. There are (relatively) short A/N's at the end of each chapter explaining some of the myths, legends, and history behind each chapter. I'll also be updating everyday, so enjoy!

o o o

The dark Dublin night did not fail him. Michael found his prey. Cornered in a lonely cobblestone alley, the old woman started to weep, knowing her fate was sealed. Michael gripped the knife in his hands, trying in vain to fight the urge for her blood. No matter how many times he tried to stop himself, his lust for the sweet nectar flowing through her veins called to him. He needed to feed.

Michael cried out, tears rolling down his cheeks. He hated himself. His grandfather and mother told him it got easier as time passed, but he never got used to feeling his victims grow limp in his arms as he watched the blood drain away from their bodies and into his stomach.

He had tried to control himself his entire life, only drinking blood once a month, but the urge became stronger when his wife had fallen pregnant with their second child. He could feel the child's need for blood. Any blood Michael drank would soothe his and his child's blood lust. He felt his child's empty stomach and his own hunger. He feasted on pigs' blood as his wife grew in size, hoping the substitution would be enough to protect his child from craving human blood and satisfying their needs. But the child grew restless and Michael knew the consequences. If their child was hungry enough, Margaret would be killed.

Tonight, the urge for human blood was too much to bear. His wife was in labor and due to give birth to their child any moment. In the womb, Michael could feel his child's desperate screams for blood. He must hunt.

He stared at the old woman in front of him, trembling and begging him not to kill her. She dropped her parcel in front of her feet and fell to her knees, reaching for the rosary around her neck, praying to God that her death would be swift.

Michael cried harder, realizing who he was about to drink form. He had seen her before. She was the butcher's wife. She and her husband owned the butchery two streets down.

"Please, Mr. Branson!" She cried out.

Michael took a step towards her, the sickeningly sweet smell of her blood enticed him. He would have to stab her in the neck instead of using his fangs. He and his family had lived in Dublin since he could remember and they had ways of masking their true identities. No one in Dublin ever suspected that there was a Droch-fhola walking the streets, hiding in plain sight.

The urge was growing stronger. He stepped closer to the woman and stepped in a puddle, but instead of feeling the splash of water on his boot, he felt and smelled something thicker.

Blood.

She was carrying blood.

Losing all control, Michael threw himself on the cold cobblestone ground of the alley, ravenously licking the stones. He didn't care if it was proper or not. He and his child needed to feed and blood was blood.

Knowing that this was the old woman's only chance to escape, Michael growled at her.

"Go to your butchery. Get all the blood you can carry and bring it here. Go on! DO IT!"

Obediently, the woman rushed past him as he lapped at the blood on the ground. She returned minutes later carrying jugs of blood on her arms and back. Slumped over on the pavement, Michael snatched the jug from the woman's arms and drank.

"YOU TELL NO ONE! LEAVE ME!" he shouted as he sat, blood covering his mouth and chin, spilling onto the front of his shirt. She left the jugs at his side and fled the scene. Michael reached for another jug, then a third, then a fourth. By the fifth jug, the sweetness of the blood quickly turned metallic. The red liquid that fueled him for so long no longer appealed to him. He spit it out, disgusted by the taste. How could it have changed so quickly?

Realizing what must have happened, Michael hung his head low and started to bawl, knowing it would never end.

. . .

Little Tom Branson slept soundly in his cradle.

He had refused his mother's milk, but his stomach was full.

* * *

><p>AN: The Droch-fhola is the Irish vampire. Though there are other legends, this legend of the Droch-fhola is the one I took from.


	2. Threat

I wanted to hold the prompt back because I didn't want the story to be given away from the get-go. But now that you've got your feet wet, whatsthisautumnsorcery's original prompt asked for a vampire AU. Though it has aspects of being a vampire AU, this story is more of a mythological AU. It morphed that way when I started doing my research and couldn't find any English vampire myths that I could work with. I hope the fact that Tom is a vampire is okay. OOPS! Did I spoil something?

This chapter is a little longer than I intended, but it gives the necessary background information to understand Tom and his family.

Thank you to The Yankee Countess, Sybbelle, and Andorra97 for reviewing!

o o o

A seven-year-old Tommy watched as his brother Kieran picked up his books from the table and went out the door. He desperately wanted to follow, but knew he couldn't. Instead, Tommy went to the window in the sitting room and peered outside, watching his brother as he walked to school. He went back to the kitchen where his mam, da and younger sisters were sitting quietly, eating their breakfast. He sat down next to his younger sister, who was poking at the black pudding on Tommy's plate.

"Why does Tommy get black pudding and red lemonade every meal while we get brown bread and butter? It's not fair! Tommy eats like the fecking King of England while–"

"Orlaith!" their Mam scolded from across the table.

She crossed her arms and stormed out of the kitchen, bread untouched.

Tom knew he wasn't like his brother and sisters. They ate different meals. They were allowed to have friends. They went outside for things other than church.

He picked up his fork and pushed the sweet pudding around his plate.

"Eat your food Tommy," his da said.

Tom hated eating the same thing over and over again. He begged his mam for something different, but she always refused, saying that his food was good for him.

The night before, in an act of defiance, Tommy pretended to eat his supper and instead snuck a piece of brown bread into his lap to take with him to bed. He ate the bread in haste and loved it. It was nothing he had ever tasted before. It wasn't sweet like his food. Later that night, Tommy woke in the middle of the night with his stomach growling. He snuck out of his room to the kitchen to get more bread, when the sweet scent of the red lemonade filled his nostrils. It was everywhere. Determined to ignore it, he devoured the rest of the bread, but it did not satisfy him. He opened the ice box, hoping there was leftover food from supper. He found the boxty and mashed carrots and decided to eat it. Once finished, it did not satisfy him. He looked for more food, but there was none. Tommy was ravenous. He went into his mam and da's room to ask if there was more food, but as he opened the door, the sweet smell engulfed him. Determined to ignore it once again, he tapped on his da's arm, waking him.

"_Da? I'm hungry," Tommy said quietly._

_Michael sat up in bed and rubbed his face._

"_Didn't you eat supper?"_

"_Yes," he responded obediently._

"_You shouldn't be hungry Tommy."_

_Michael was about to settle back into bed, but was jolted into full consciousness when Tommy began speaking again._

"_But I am. I ate the bread, boxty, and carrots, but I'm still hungry."_

_Michael sat up and turned to his youngest son._

"_You didn't eat your supper?"_

"_No."_

_Alarmed, Michael turned to his wife, shaking her arm to wake her._

"_Maggie. Maggie, wake up. Tommy didn't eat his supper," Michael warned her._

_She rubbed her eyes and looked incredulously at her son, then looked with fear at her husband, wishing the scene unfolding before her was a bad dream which she would soon wake from._

"_Tommy didn't eat," Michael said evenly._

"_Did you throw away your food?" she asked Tommy._

_Feeling guilty and knowing he did something wrong, his bottom lip started to quiver. He was going to get a yelling for not eating his supper and for wasting food._

"_Yes."_

_Michael and Maggie jumped out of bed and started to whirl around the room. His mam grabbed her dressing gown and started for the door._

"_Wake them all up and get them out. Leave me with Tommy," Michael instructed._

_Scared that they were going to leave him, Tommy started to cry._

"_Why? Where are you going?"_

_Tommy's mother guided her son to the bed and sat him down. She embraced her son and wiped the tears from his cheeks. She put on a brave smile and kissed his forehead._

"_Nan's house. But only for the rest of the night," she turned to Michael, "I'll see if there's black pudding at your mother's house."_

_He nodded and within a few minutes, there were only two people in the small Dublin flat. Michael placed his hands on Tommy's shoulders as he kneeled down to meet his son's gaze._

"_You must stay in here mo buachaill. You must promise that you will not leave this room until I call for you."_

"_I'm scared."_

_Tommy's stomach let out a violent growl and his da left him alone in the bedroom, knowing what he must do to keep Tommy and his family safe. Minutes later, he called for his youngest son._

"_Tommy. Come into the kitchen."_

_Tommy followed his father's orders. He found his father laying on the ground, pale-faced and unable to move. There was a knife on the counter and a piece of cloth wrapped around his forearm. Next to his hand was a cup full of red lemonade._

"_Drink."_

_He did as he was told and drank. It was sweeter than his normal drink, absolutely delicious. He wanted more. Much more. But the sight of his father deterred him from wanting any more. He knew his father had sacrificed a great deal to give this to him. He knew that there was no more in the house, so where did he get it from?_

_Tom drained the last of his red lemonade and licked his lips. He stared at the cloth around his father's arm as the middle started to turn red. It smelled sweet. It was the same scent as his…_

_Tom threw the cup down and scuttled to the other side of the room._

_His mam came in moments later, black pudding and bread in hand, in shock to find her husband on the floor and their son crying in the corner of the kitchen. Tommy screamed at his mother to stay away from him as he ran past her and locked himself away in his room._

Silence engulfed the Branson table the next morning.

Tommy kept his gaze down at his plate in shame, not daring to stare at anyone in the eye.

Maggie reached over to Michael and rubbed his hand from across the table. She picked up Máirín and left her husband and Tommy alone in the kitchen.

"About last night Tommy, I need to tell you something," his da said.

He was ashamed of what he had done. He was going to get a scolding and he knew he deserved it. Tommy heard his da take a breath in and started to speak.

"There is always one member of the Branson clan that is cursed with the hunger. We thirst for blood. The hunger is passed from parent-to-child. I used to have it, but then you were born mo buachaill. It went to you. It's a legacy that I am ashamed to pass on. You don't deserve this curse, no more than me, my mother, or her father. There's an evil spirit. The Droch-fhola. It used to be inside me, but when you were born, it went into you."

"But why da? What did we do?" Tommy asked.

"Long ago, there was a war in Ireland. Two blood sucker clans, the O'Neil and MacGillicuddy clans were warring over the rightful heir of the High King of Ireland. Each clan swore allegiance to different sides, the O'Neils to Áed Rúad's heir and daughter Macha Mong Ruad, the MacGillicuddy's to Díthorba and Cimbáeth. Our clan was caught in the middle of the war. We shared the lands with both the O'Neils' and MacGillicuddy's. When the last battle took place, the clans destroyed each other, but one of our ancestors was accidentally bitten in the heat of the battle and was turned into a blood sucker. We used to live in Kerry, but the surrounding clans who were sick of the fighting heard that our clan had a blood sucker, they came after us, fearing that we would start another war and prey on their children. We fled to Dublin to escape. Ever since no one has suspected us."

It was too much for little Tom to take in.

"I'm…a…Droch-fhola?"

"Yes."

"Were you a Droch-fhola? And nan? She was a Droch-fhola?"

"Yes."

Tommy started to bawl uncontrollably and sob into his da's arms.

"We're monster in the stories? But I don't want to be a monster da! I want to be like everyone else. I don't want to drink blood anymore!"

Michael tried to soothe his son, but he knew the pain of the curse. Though his mam told him when he was older, the news was a shock. He tried to placate his son by giving him the only ray of hope that kept himself from going insane with grief in the early years.

"If you want, your mam and I can teach you how to read and write. I know it's not much of an education and I can't guarantee that it will make your life easier, but if you're willing to learn, we would be happy to teach you."

Thirteen years later…

Tom walked the short distance from the Trinity College Library to the flat with books tucked under his arm. Once inside, he greeted his mam with a kiss on the cheek and his youngest brother, Niall, and sister Máirín with sweets bought on his way back home.

Tom plopped down on his bed and licked his lips. He would have to feed tonight, but before he went out to get his fill, he opened up a copy of the Book of Leinster for a bit of light reading. Though mythology wasn't his usual genre, he decided to read it for its historical value. He opened the book and was swept into another world. A world outside of his hometown. A world of long dead High Kings of Ireland, magic, and bloody battles. Tom was almost finished with the book when he came across something unexpected.

…_dragons blood can cure anything…_

Tom blinked. Not sure what to make of what he had just read.

It was all a fiction. Dragons couldn't exist, not in 1910. They were reserved for the pages in books, for a time when King Arthur ruled, when people like him roamed the earth…

'But if I can exist, who's to say that dragons can't exist as well?' he thought.

Tom jumped up from his bed and started to plan the long journey ahead of him.

* * *

><p>AN: Tom's family is as follows: Michael Branson (former vampire, father); Margaret Branson (mother); Nan (former vampire, grandmother); Kieran (older brother); Orlaith (younger sister); Máirín (youngest sister); Niall (not born yet in the flashback, youngest brother)

The way the vampire succession works is through birth. The spirit of the Droch-fhola is the same one from the legend. It just uses the Bransons as a vessel to feed. It doesn't always pass from father to son, it just happened to turn out that way this succession. There are several conditions to being a Droch-fhola in this universe. 1) If the vessel decides to kill his/herself, the spirit transfers to another member of the same generation. (E.g. If Tom dies unexpectedly without producing an heir, then one of his siblings will become the Droch-fhola.) 2) Former vampires can only die of old age. It's a consequence of murdering to feed. They must deal with the guilt. 3) The parent-child vampire bond is strongest in birth. Since the Droch-fhola is transferring itself from one vessel to another, it must feed for two bodies. Hence Michael has to drink for Tom and himself. 4) Children and babies must be fed on a diet of blood growing up. As they age, they can control their hunger and go without feeding for weeks at a time.

You're also probably wondering why they would even procreate to begin with, but they're human. The Droch-fhola spirit doesn't want to do anything but drink blood, so an adult vessel can carry on a relatively normal life, but must sate their cravings for blood, human or animal. The Droch-fhola doesn't like animal blood and craves human blood, but the Bransons have found a way to trick the Droch-fhola by mixing small amounts of human blood with animals blood. But sometimes the urge for pure human blood is too much and they must kill.

I also got the idea of dragon's blood having magical properties from Richard Wagner's four operas Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung) which is based on Norse mythology.

There are other points in this chapter which I'll address in the next chapter.


	3. Swindled

The continued A/N from last chapter is at the bottom of this one. I hope you like this chapter though you might not.

Thank you to The Yankee Countess, Andorra97, and shana-rosee for reviewing!

o o o

April 1912

The pair sat at opposite ends of the dining room table in the spacious Bamburgh Castle. Their faces were dimly illuminated by the candles on the table. The quiet chimes of silver brushing the porcelain plates were interspersed with short conversation exchanged every few minutes. Sybil Crawley looked up from her plate to see her father across the dining room, finishing the fish course. Sybil smiled at her father.

"I never knew the Northumbrian coast was so beautiful. I'm so glad you took me here Papa. I'm sorry Mama, Mary, or Edith couldn't come with us."

Robert looked up from his plate and tried to smile as pleasantly as his youngest daughter.

"Yes, well. Happy 16th birthday darling."

"Thank you Papa, but it's not my birthday yet. Wait until tomorrow."

Robert's mouth went dry as he broke out in a cold sweat. He forced a smile onto his face.

"Quite right darling."

As the dinner continued, Sybil began to feel lightheaded. She fought to keep her eyes open, but found that it was nearly impossible. She slowly gathered the napkin on her lap and lethargically placed it on the table. Slowly, she lifted her head, trying to speak to her father from across the table.

"I'm sorry. I'm not…feeling well…Excuse…me…"

Sybil stood up and collapsed on the floor of the dining room.

. . .

Sybil awoke with a start. She sat up in bed and blinked. It was all black. She brought her hands to her eyes in complete disbelief. Was she blind? She called out for her father, but instead of hearing the rustling of servants outside her door, she heard her own voice echoing back to her. Confused and disoriented, Sybil threw her legs to the side of the bed, expecting to feel the luxurious carpet beneath her feet. What she felt was cold stone. Immediately she withdrew her feet from the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs. Moments later, she saw a torch in the distant darkness and heard footsteps coming towards her. A voice called out to her.

Her father.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that she was inside a large cave. She rushed over to Robert, but was stopped by the metal bars, imprisoning her. She grasped the cool metal and shook it. It didn't budge.

Sybil started to shake her head in disbelief. She was a prisoner? Why? She had never done anything bad in her life. Sybil became frantic and started to beat on a bar with her fist as she cried out.

"What is this? Where am I?" she cried out.

Her father stepped closer until she saw his face in the firelight.

"Know that we all love you so much and we only want what's best for you."

Robert didn't have much time left. He regretted not telling her before, but it was out of his hands.

"I'm sorry Sybil. You must stay here."

"No, no. I want to go home Papa!"

Her shouts for her father and her family were in vain when Robert turned to leave. Somehow, Sybil knew that this was the last time she would ever see anyone from her family.

"Papa! Where are you going! Don't leave me here!"

It was almost sunrise. He glanced back at his daughter for the last look. She was trying in vain to shake the bars, eyes lined with red, face swollen. He turned away. Sybil's blood curling screams for her father reverberated throughout the cave. Robert exited the cave with the cover of darkness, never to see his youngest ever again.

As the first rays of sunshine appeared in the horizon, Sybil's terrified shrieks became louder. Her voice roared and all at once, the cave was engulfed in flames.

* * *

><p>AN: Whut the nuts just happened?

In regards to the last chapter, the O'Neil clan is (apparently) tied to vampire folklore, so I decided to include them as a warring clan to the MacGilicuddy clan. As far as I know, there is no MacGilicuddy clan, but the Castle of Droch-fhola is in the MacGilicuddy Reeks Mountains in Kerry, so there's the vampire connection. And since my version of the Irish vampire resides in Kerry, I made Michael's maternal lineage come from Kerry.

Also the High Kings of Ireland were an actual thing. The High Kings Áed Rúad, Díthorba, and Cimbáeth ruled in seven year rotations around the time of King Arthur. There was a struggle when Áed Rúad's daughter Macha Mong Ruad claimed a right to the throne when her father died. There was a battle and Macha Mong Ruad won the right to rule in her father's place. She is the only female High King.

The Book of Leinster is an actual book as well. It was written in the 12th century and contains medieval Irish literature, mythology, and lineages along with other texts. It's currently housed in the Trinity College Library.


	4. Secret

Thank you everyone for the reviews! There's a bit of a lag when it comes to the A/N's because it's going to reveal some things that I don't want revealed yet, so please be patient when it comes to learning the mythology behind each chapter.

Thank you to shana-rosee and The Yankee Countess for leaving lovely reviews!

This chapter is VERY short, but there's some pretty vital information in this chapter regarding Sybil.

o o o

Violet sat on the ornate chaise lounge of Crawley House, stunned at her son's confession and unable to bring the teacup to her lips.

"You never told Sybil?" she hissed.

Robert paced in front of the fireplace, overwrought from his mistake.

"I couldn't Mama. She was so excited to go to the coast, I couldn't bring myself to tell her the purpose of our trip."

Violet huffed.

"I told Rosamond when I left her." She paused for a moment, the tension in the air rising. "What did you say to Cora?"

"I said I told her."

"Oh Robert…"

His mother's disheartened tone agitated Robert. How dare she! He just lost his youngest daughter and his mother was the only one who could empathize. She sent Rosamund off to Bamburgh all those years ago. Robert erupted in anger.

"What was the purpose in telling her!? She would have died even if I did! I spared her from knowing her fate."

Violet sighed and shook her head.

"Everyone needs closure Robert."

. . .

dusk nears and i am  
>renewed. for<br>a moment, i for-  
>get my horror.<br>only when she visits, i am  
>not cursed.<p>

dawn arrives and i  
>return. the burden of<br>ancient sins rests on my shoulders.  
>gulled by the ones closest, the<br>one that gives life, stole mine and he  
>never lets me forget.<p>

* * *

><p>AN: The Crawley's situation will be fully explained in a few chapters when everything is revealed. If you have a revelation about this chapter, don't hesitate to PM me!

I know. I know. It was too short. I promise things will pick up in the next chapter.


	5. Beast

Sorry this chapter is SUPER late. I literally just got home. Went to work at 8. Got out at 4:15. Took a quick shower, headed for an old family friend's birthday party, saw Winter's Tale with yankeecoutess and niallbranson, then went BACK to the party and then came back home. So yeah, today's been a little bit on the busy side! I should get the next chapter posted at the regular time tomorrow, but I gotta get all my school stuff done first. MEH.

Onwards to the next chapter!

The story picks up again, so I hope it makes up for the fact that the last two chapters have been slow.

o o o

The Morning of August 21, 1914

After a fruitless year-long search in his homeland of Ireland for a dragon to slay, Tom crossed the Irish Sea. He roamed around the mountains of Scotland, coast of Wales, and flatlands of England hoping to catch wind of any tales of dragons nearby. For two years, Tom drifted aimlessly, becoming more and more frustrated at his failure of finding anything. He was on the verge of giving up his search in England to look on the Isle of Man when he overheard an old woman telling folk tales to children in a library in York.

According to the legend, the Crawleys of Yorkshire unknowingly built their estate on sacred fairy ground. The Fairy King and Queen, Oberon and Titania, allowed them to stay, but at a cost. The Crawleys must always sacrifice their youngest daughter to the dragon living underneath an abandoned castle on the coast of Northumberland.

With this information, he devoted the rest of his day scouring over old maps in the library, trying to find castles on the coast. There was only one: Bamburgh Castle.

Tom set off for the north, anxious that his curse would soon be lifted. Stepping off the morning train, a chill ran up his spine. Something was amiss. Bamburgh village was deserted. As he went down the road, there were several houses charred black and in ruins. Many of the other houses appeared abandoned, covered in a light coat of ash with their windows broken out. Tom traveled further and found a small pub which he could stay for the night. Tom opened the doors and was greeted by a sly looking blonde woman wiping the bar down. She had a nasty expression on her face, but it suddenly turned dangerously sweet upon seeing his face. The woman leaned forward on the bar, pushing her chest out, hoping he would take notice.

"Can I help you?" she asked sweetly as she batted her eyes.

Not trusting this woman, Tom held tight on his battered suitcase and stayed a safe distance away from her.

"I need a room for the night."

"We're full, but I'll see what I can do," the woman said as she winked.

She led Tom up to his room and lingered by the door.

"I'm Edna by the way."

Something about Edna made Tom distrust her. His instincts were not always right, but this woman was a threat to his safety and he knew that if he was in danger, her fate would be sealed.

Tom pushed past her and into his room, murmuring a quiet "Thank you," before shutting his door and dropping his suitcase on the bed. He opened the clasps of his suitcase and pulled out a jar of yellow mineral which he knew would kill the dragon: sulfur. He had read enough books to know that slaying a dragon didn't merely require brute force. One needed cunning to outsmart the dragon, hence the sulfur to poison it.

His plan was simple. Kill a sheep, drink its blood, cover the sheep in sulfur, and toss it into the dragon's den.

Tom rolled his tongue around in his mouth. It had been several days since he had fed and the urge was rising. Today would be the day.

Tom stuffed the small jar in his coat pocket and set off for the imposing castle at the end of the road. Luckily for him, a sheepherder was letting his sheep graze on the fields surrounding the castle. The plan would work perfectly.

To get a lay of the land, he surveyed the grounds around the castle, looking for a way into the caves. Since Bamburgh Castle sat atop hill with once side facing the sea, it wouldn't be difficult for him to spot a cave on the beach worn side of the castle.

He stood for several minutes looking at the massive fortress facing him before the sun started to go out. Tom looked up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun's harsh rays. The sun became black and the day became the night. Puzzled by the phenomenon, Tom looked all around to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Everything in the world went gray.

He turned his attention back to the caves and saw a woman amongst the rocks, revealing a small entrance to the caves beneath Bamburgh Castle. Tom was instantly drawn to her. He could not see her face, but she stood naked in the artificial night. Her alabaster skin contrasted the dark edges of the rock and her soft waves of ebony hair. She must have seen him, for she looked in his direction and must have seen him staring at her. She rushed back into the caves as the light from the sun started to illuminate the sky.

"No!" Tom yelled as he chased after her.

He crossed the beach and ran up the hill. The rocky terrain of the small cliffs made it difficult for him to catch up, but he knew he couldn't let this woman venture into the caves, knowing the danger lurking in the caves.

Tom found the entrance and carelessly ran in with no torch to guide his way.

He stayed still for a moment, heart beating rapidly from running and the sudden onset of fear. He shouldn't have run after her. She was probably a mirage, a cruel trick of the mind. Because of his rashness, he was lost in the caves with a dragon hiding somewhere, waiting to devour him.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Tom could see where he was: a dead end. He felt his way around hoping there was a crack large enough so he wouldn't be trapped, but his search was in vain.

Suddenly, the temperature of the air around him started to rise. It became hotter and hotter. The dragon was close. He reached for the jar of sulfur in his pocket as a last effort to try and kill the dragon, but the heat was too much to bear.

Tom accepted his fate collapsed on the ground.

. . .

When Tom came around hours later, he found himself lying on a luxurious bed…with the fair skinned, dark haired woman's face hovering over his.

* * *

><p>AN: No real mythological background to speak of just yet because I'll reveal Sybil's origins later on. From last chapter, the two poems at the end are pretty important to solving her mystery.

In regards to this chapter, Oberon and Titania are blatant references to Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Bambrugh Castle is a real place in Northumberland. And speaking of Northumberland, there are a few interesting tales in Northumberlandic(?) folklore that I will address later on. I also looked up how to slay a dragon and the first thing that popped up was basically "kill it with a sword" but I thought that was too archaic. Instead I went for the more cunning way of killing a dragon, masking the taste of sulfur with lamb meat.

There's also something that happened on the date of this chapter in earth's history, which I'll also address later.


	6. Revelation

Thank you to the lovely shana-rosee for reviewing the last chapter!

On to the next chapter!

o o o

Sybil was shocked. No one ever dared to step on the castle grounds, let alone venture into the caves. When she saw a man standing on the beach between the castle and the sea, she feared for his life. She read of hundreds of men coming to the caves and all of them ended the same way: dead. They knew the secret and they knew what laid beneath the stone floors of Bambrough Castle and were prepared for the worst. What they always encountered was more dangerous and terrible than any of them could imagine.

She knew that it would be safest for him at night. She dressed and quickly went back down to the caves. Surprised by her strength, Sybil carried the unknown man on her back to a guest bedroom in the plush castle above. She brought a chair next to his bedside, keeping watch over him. With the dragon subdued by the moon, Sybil was free to do whatever she pleased. On most nights, she would go into the village to have a meal and a chat with the people at the inn. Tonight instead, she would take care of the man who was thick enough to think he could defeat the beast.

As he was laying motionless and breathing heavily, Sybil looked at him intently. She hadn't seen him in the village before and she knew everyone in town.

'He must be new,' she thought, careful not to think that his intentions going to the cave was merely curiosity and not something sinister.

She examined him further and she found the man handsome. Most of the young men in the village were dark haired and wiry from constantly working on the farms. Not this stranger. His shoulders were much broader and he was much stockier, giving her the impression that he had not once labored on a farm. She brushed some of the fringe away from his face and found herself starting to blush. She sat back, knowing her best course of action was to keep herself distanced from him.

The moon was high among the stars when the man started to came to. He stirred in his sleep and licked his lips. Sybil leaned over him as he finally opened his eyes, blinking a few times.

His eyes widened and his cheeks reddened slightly.

A moment of awkward silence passed between them before Sybil leaned back in her chair and reached for the towel sitting in the bow of cold water on the bedside table.

Sybil swallowed and gathered herself.

"Put this on your forehead. You were sweating earlier and I thought you needed something cold."

She wrung out the towel and handed it to his outstretched hand.

A quiet "Thank you" passed between his lips.

Her heart skipped a beat. His accent was most definitely not English. An Irishman in England? What for? Is it because…

She shook the thought out of her head and thought of all the awful lessons in hospitality and how to be a good hostess taught by her governess. She frowned slightly. No she was no Lady here. Her family had abandoned her. She might as well have been an orphan. With all the decorum that came with being an aristocrat, she ignored all her "schooling", deeming it unnecessary since the people she was around never cared for them.

"I know it's rude, but may I who you are?" She asked.

The man sat up and reached his hand out.

"Tom Branson. And you?"

Her hand met his.

"Sybil Crawley. Very nice meeting you."

Tom gave her and a light squeeze before letting go. His hands were rough. Hands that belonged to a working class man. But they were warm and gentle against her own.

She folded her hands in her lap and continued.

"So, Mr. Branson-"

"Tom, please."

She smiled politely at him.

"Tom, please answer truthfully."

He nodded, with grave seriousness on his face.

"Aye, On my nan's grave I will tell the truth."

Sybil searched for the best way to phrase her question, but she was hesitant to reveal the secret lurking inside of the walls of Bamburgh Castle.

"I…I presume you know about the dragon."

"Aye, I do."

She nodded her head, accepting that there were probably more men coming for more surprise visits.

Lost in thought, she was pulled out by his beautiful Irish brogue.

"I saw you earlier, when the sun went out. I chased after you but…"

She blushed. She knew that he had seen her naked, but at the time, there was nothing she could do.

"But what?" Sybil replied.

"The dragon is keeping you here, isn't it?" Tom asked.

Sybil's gaze fell to from his and nodded slowly.

"You came to kill the dragon, didn't you?" Sybil asked quietly.

"Aye. I did."

She bit her lip.

"I see."

"Don't you want to be from the dragon?" Tom asked earnestly.

"I do, but it's not that simple."

A puzzled look crossed his face.

"Why not?"

Sybil silently exhaled, her breath wavering.

"Because I'm the dragon."

* * *

><p>AN: YUP! Some of you smart readers were very close to the truth but (for obvious reasons) I couldn't reveal if you were right or not. Kudos to you!

More of Sybil's background will be revealed next chapter and that's when I'll elaborate on the inspiration for Sybil's story!


	7. Fated

Sorry for the long delay! This past weekend has been super hectic and the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing at work since I'm new isn't helping. Mythology will conclude tomorrow, so there's that!

Enjoy the penultimate chapter and I'll see you tomorrow at the conclusion!

o o o

Sybil's confession sent Tom's mind reeling. He was grateful for already lying in bed. He would have needed to lie down after hearing her words.

How was this possible? He saw her enter the caves and he remembered the searing heat of the dragon's breath on him before he fainted in the cave. How can she be both? How can the she be the dragon?

"But how?" he asked.

Sybil finally met his gaze and inhaled deeply.

"Are you aware of the legend?" She asked.

He nodded silently and she continued.

"As you very well know then, my family was punished for building our ancestral seat on fairy lands. As punishment, the youngest daughter of every generation was to be sacrificed to the dragon of Northumberland…"

She paused a moment to gather her thoughts.

"What the legend didn't say was that it was all a trick. There was never a dragon to be sacrificed to. The true punishment was to be turned into the dragon in the day and back into human at night."

Tom pulled himself up and sat up.

"Why did I see you in the caves?"

She thought for a moment before answering.

"I'm not quite sure. I felt myself being transformed, but I knew it was still day. When I went outside, the sun was gone…"

Sybil's eyes darted from his. Her voice quieted to a whisper as she looked back up at him.

"…Then I saw you."

Their gazes met briefly before Tom looked away. Her penetrating gaze made his heart beat faster and his ears to redden in slight embarrassment. After meeting so quickly, he already felt a strong attachment towards her, but it was more than that. There was something about her that lit a fire in his belly. It started as a small spark, but its flames spread like wildfire over him. No doubt she was beautiful. He thought that the moment he laid eyes on her. But it was more than that.

There was a quiet intensity about Sybil. She must have been the only one to carry him up to the castle's bedroom, so she was obviously strong, but there was a great strength of character. She was resilient, vowing to stay in the castle alone, bearing the weight of her family's shame in isolation.

They were one and the same.

He looked back up at her, sitting up like the proper lady she was trained to be, but her eyes were cast down. As she looked up again, gazes meeting once more. Her eyes widened for a moment. A sharp and quiet inhale passed through her lips. There was a flash of insecurity, but that was all dispelled when Tom sat up, reached over and placed his hand on hers. His lips curled into a small, but sincere smile. She returned it, eyes crinkling at the edges.

It was in that moment of pure happiness that a knot in the pit of his stomach formed. It was impossible, even crazy, but he was falling in love with her. As he looked at her, his heart fell from his chest. A devastating realization shattered his perfect moment with her.

The radiant Sybil Crawley will die by his hand.

Tom swallowed and accepted his fate.

He pulled away from Sybil and laid back down. He shut his eyes, covered his eyes in the crook of his elbow, and shook his head. Tears pricked at the corners, falling one after the other.

"I won't do it. I can't," he tearfully confessed.

His journey had finally ended.

Four years of relentless searching culminated in failure. All his hard work would all be in vain and he would return to Ireland as a blood thirsty killer.

A gentle pressure on his knee alerted Tom. He took his arm away and saw her wipe away a tear from her cheek. She tried to hide her face behind her thick curtain of ebony tresses, but a futile laugh and sad smile crossed her face. Her voice quivered as she fought her own tears coming down.

"You must think me mad, saving you. You must think me more mad when you confessed you were going to kill me and I didn't run away."

She paused briefly and dabbed at her cheeks.

"But I'm done with this life."

"Sybil-"

"Please Tom, let me finish," She took a deep breath in to calm herself, "I've been hearing stories at the pub when I go out as a human; a dragon has been burning down homes at night in the village. The villagers are scared and for all they know, the myth of the Northumberland dragon is just that, a myth. But last night, I overheard something that frightened me."

Tom held his breath.

"There are people in the village who know about me. Two hunters are coming for me tomorrow. They know who I am they're going to frame me as the fire starter."

She buried her face in her hands and wept. Her desperate cries filled the room. As Tom looked on, he felt his throat tighten and his eyes start to fill with water.

"They want to cut off my head as proof," she said through her cries.

Tom climbed out of bed and softly lifted her out of the chair and sat her down on the edge of the bed. He wrapped his arms around her as Sybil clung onto him cried into the fabric of his white shirt. He rubbed her back as she calmed down. Once the hiccups subsided, she looked at Tom, eyes red and swollen. He wiped her tears away with his thumb as he held her face.

"I want to die on my own terms and if I must die, I want to die with dignity."

Tom shook his head.

"You must fight."

"I know I must, but what do I do afterwards? What kind of a life is this? I'm trapped here for the rest of my days. Isn't it better to accept your fate?"

"No, but just because I've accepted mine doesn't mean that you should do the same."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"And what fate is that?"

Tom told Sybil the story of the Branson clan. The family forever cursed with carrying the Droch-fhola and becoming blood suckers. He told her of his discovery in the Book of Leinster four years previous. He told her of his travels across the British Isles. He told her of the special healing powers that ran through her veins.

Sybil was quiet for a moment when Tom finished his tale.

"Drink from me," she said, "If all you need is my blood, then I will give it to you."

"I won't accept it."

"Come dusk tomorrow, I will be dead. Please Tom. Let me do this for you," Sybil pleaded.

Tom shook his head, refusing to compromise.

Sybil stood up from the bed and crossed the room to the window, gazing at the moon.

"Then we are stuck with the fates that have been given to us."

. . .

Tom slept through the rest of the night and woke up the next morning. Laid out in the chair Sybil sat in the night before was a new pair of clothes.

On the pillow next to him, he found a note informing him of how to get to the dungeons. He grabbed the torch, already lit for him at the doorway to the staircase and entered.

As he slowly descended the staircase to the caves, the air around him grew heavier and heavier. The salty sea air mixed with the heat emanating off of Sybil's body was draining him of energy. Once at the bottom of the seemingly endless set of stairs, the muggy air hung all around him and his sweat-soaked clothes stuck to his body. He looked around and called for her.

"Sybil!?"

His voice didn't carry far, but it was enough that Sybil let out a low hum. Tom followed her voice down to the end of the tunnel. Once at the end, the tunnel opened into a massive cavern, deep underground with cracks of light coming the ceiling from above and the cliff entrances to the east.

In the middle of the cave stood Sybil. Twenty feet high on all fours. Jet black scales that shined a sky blue if the light hit her at the right angle. Her enormous wings were folded behind her and her claws looked like they could rip a man's heart out with one fell swoop. She looked terrifying, but he knew that she couldn't ever hurt a fly.

Sybil laid down and rested her head on her paws, waiting patiently for Tom to come to her.

Tom slowly approached her, the heat still stifling and making it hard for him to breathe. Once before her, he reached a hand out, hesitant to touch her. She raised her head and leaned into his hand. The cool scales of her cheek was a great relief to Tom. He cautiously approached closer and hugged her around the base of her long neck. Her head curled around and nuzzled against the back of his head, neck and back.

"Oh Sybil…"

She let out a long exhale and stepped away from him. Confused, Tom took a step towards her, but she let out a great roar…

"No!"

…And sunk her teeth into her scaly paw. She ripped her teeth away and the blood started to gush from her wound. She laid back down and pushed her paw towards him.

"I can't Sybil. I can't take that chance."

She snorted and shook her head. She pushed her paw closer to him and he could smell her blood. The scent swirled all around him. Honey, wine, nectar, none of them smelled as rich and as sweet as her blood. It was his ambrosia.

Her blood enticed him. It took every fiber of restraint in his body not to devour her blood. He hadn't fed in weeks and the mere sight of her blood tempted him. At that moment he decided to give in. But instead of going to her paw, he first went to her head and stroked the end of her nose. She closed her eyes, savoring the contact.

"I promise I won't hurt you. I'll help you find a way to help you once I'm cured. I won't leave you," he whispered.

Tom sat down cross legged and brought her paw into his lap. Blood oozed from the gash. He looked up at her one last time to make sure that it was alright. Her eyes crinkled slightly and she gave a slight nod.

He brought his lips to the wound and started to suck gently. Sweet, like honey, but even richer. The thick liquid coated his mouth and he needed more. The taste made his head spin. More. It was all-consuming. More. He drunk her blood like a man who stumbled across water in the desert. Desperate for more, he bit into her, making the gash even larger. More blood flooded his mouth. It was intoxicating, her sweetness. More.

Tom sucked and sucked and sucked until the taste of her blood turned from sweet to metal. He dropped her paw and licked his lips.

Iron.

He scrunched his face and spit out the remaining blood on the cave floor. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He inhaled deeply and could not smell the blood's scent wafting through the air. He smiled and turned to Sybil, looking down at the blood on his hands, grateful that the hunger was gone.

"I think I'm cured!" he cried out, "Sybil! Tha-"

As he looked up to see her, her eyes were closed and her scales had turned a light gray. Her head rested comfortably against her other paw. She was completely still.

"Sybil?"

Tom stepped closer to her and placed his hand in front of her nose. He could barely feel her exhales.

He shook her head in an effort to wake her up from her sleep. Nothing.

He shook her again and lifted one of her eyelids to see if that would wake her up. Her blue eye stared blankly beyond Tom.

"No, no, no."

He looked at her paw and knelt beside it. In his thirst, Tom had bitten her several times. Her paw was torn up by her initial and his bites.

The blood oozed out slowly. She would only have a few minutes.

He pressed his hands on the wounds, hoping the pressure would be enough to stop the bleeding.

"Oh god! No, please no!"

* * *

><p>AN: I can finally reveal the mythology behind Sybil!

Her story primarily stems from the story of "The Laidly Worm of Spindleston Heugh." In the story (lifted straight from wikipedia so it's probably riddled with inaccuracies) a princess is turned into a dragon.

"In the Kingdom of Northumbria, a kind king in Bamburgh Castle takes a beautiful but cruel witch as his queen after his wife's death. The King's son, Childe Wynd, has gone across the sea but the witch turns his daughter, Princess Margaret, into a dragon."

I changed some things for obvious reasons but I thought that it would fit perfectly with the story. I primarily wanted to use Irish and English folklore and mythology so I tried to keep it as local as possible. Bamburgh Castle was the perfect setting for the story considering that it's tied to this folktale.

There's also something very significant about the date, August 21, 1914. There was a solar eclipse on that day in history. Solar eclipses are pretty rare and they're usually tied with weird things happening. Though the real solar eclipse that happened over the British Isles was only a partial eclipse, I hope you can forgive me for not being as factual. Sybil draws her power from the sun (I kinda took that one from Avatar: The Last Airbender) and when the sun goes down, she becomes human once again.

Sybil does in fact, live alone. I was going to mention that she has turned nocturnal but I thought that would be unnecessary information. She sleeps in the day and stays up at night. She goes to the pub, eats dinner, and still interacts with people, but she must always keep her distance since her secret is still a secret.

If you have any more questions, leave me a PM and I'll answer them in the next and final A/N! Happy reading!


	8. Inferno

The last chapter! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this! You're all wonderful and I love all of you!

To whatsthisautumnsorcery: I hope this ending does your prompt justice! I'm sorry it's late!

o o o

"Come on love. Come on."

Tom shook Sybil's head, but it was dead weight in his arms. Her head was limp on her paws and rolled over slightly as he let go.

"Sybil!"

He hugged her around the neck, gently stroking the ashen scales of her nape. Tears welled up in his eyes as he felt her breath slow down even further.

"Well isn't that sweet? He gave it a name."

Eyes lined with red and cheeks stained with tears, Tom turned around and found two women standing side-by-side by one of the cave entrances from the sea. One had blonde hair, the other had red. He squinted his eyes to get a better look. It was the barmaid and another maid, both from the inn. They couldn't be here to kill Sybil. No, they couldn't.

The blonde one smiled nastily at Tom.

"Hello Tom. Remember me? Edna?"

She pouted her lips and batted her eyes. She shifted her weight onto one leg and brought a hand up to play with her hair.

"You didn't come back to the inn last night. I waited all night for you and you never came back. I was worried sick!"

Tom stepped in front of Sybil's head, shielding her from her two potential murderers.

"So, Sarah and I went to find you," she continued.

The petite red haired woman waved her fingers at Tom with a devious grin on her face. A chill instantly ran down his spine as he looked at the pair.

"What do you want?" he asked defensively.

Sarah stepped forward.

"We're trying to protect the village from your precious, what did you call it?" She tapped her fingers on her chin. "Your Sybil?"

Her mouth curled into a cruel smile.

"She's been burning the villager's homes you know," Sarah stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Angry that these women were patronizing both him and Sybil, he shook his head and he could feel his blood pressure rise. Through clenched teeth, Tom growled at Edna and Sarah.

"It wasn't Sybil."

Both women laughed simultaneously and covered their fit of giggles behind their hands.

Edna caught her breath.

"Of course we know that."

Tom swallowed empty air and it sat heavy in his stomach.

"We've been setting the fires," Sarah said.

Tom's eyes widened. What could possible make them burn down innocent people's homes? What made them do this?

"But why?"

"Everyone loves a hero," Edna replied with a grin, "and everyone loves giving money to heroes."

Pure and simple greed. Tom shook his head and stood firmly in front of Sybil, ready and willing to give his life to protect her from the criminals in front of them.

"So you're going to frame Sybil for your crimes and steal everyone's money? I won't allow it."

Both drew the swords they carried on their backs. Edna pointed the sharp tip at Tom's face as Sarah leveled the edge of her blade to ensure that Sybil's death would be make in one swipe. Terrified, Tom backed into Sybil's muzzle as Edna and Sarah advanced on them.

With a wicked smile Edna countered.

"Good thing you'll be dead."

Before the sharp steel of their swords made contact with their intended targets, a flash of bright light illuminated the cave. Tom fell to the side and covered his eyes. He felt a faint flickering all over his body as he heard blood curling screams coming from the women in front of him. Tom slowly opened his eyes and saw the silhouettes of Edna and Sarah, just an arms reach away, collapse into millions of particles of ash.

The air swirled around and the flames danced on his skin. And just as quickly as the flames came, they were extinguished. Tom rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the relative darkness of the cave. He turned around and found Sybil laying in the middle of the cave, naked and covered in a light dusting of ash. Tom looked away for modesty's sake and took his shirt off. He draped the oversized shirt over Sybil's body and he gently placed the back of his hand on her cheek.

Warmth emanated from her face as he felt the gentle breeze of her inhales and exhales. His heart leaped in his chest as her eyes started to flutter open. Once she was fully conscious, she pushed herself up to her elbows and looked down at her hands. Her eyes darted to the cave opening, the sunlight streaming in. She turned her hands over and sat up.

Tom looked away as she blushed and buttoned his shirt and stood up.

"You can turn back around," she said in her husky tone.

Tom turned back and watched her push a few strands of her black curls behind her ear. Shocked that they were still both alive, he took three long strides and wrapped his arms tightly around her, making sure that she didn't dissolve into thin air.

She rubbed his bare back and buried her face into his chest. Tom pressed a kiss to the top of her head and kept his lips on the crown of her head.

"I thought I lost you," he said.

He pulled away and brought his hand to cup her cheek.

"I'm here," she whispered back.

Overjoyed with relief, Tom leaned in and captured her lips in his in a sweet and chaste kiss. It was nothing like he'd ever experienced before. His heart beat wildly in his chest and he thought of nothing but kissing her every day for the rest of his life. Tom pulled away and they smiled at each other, both panting and engrossed in the feel of each others arms around them.

Tom rubbed her cheek with his thumb and placed another soft kiss to her lips. He leaned his forehead on hers and they both closed their eyes.

"I promise to devote every waking moment to your happiness," Tom whispered with a smile.

Sybil replied by twining her arms around Tom's neck and pulling him down for another earth shattering kiss.

* * *

><p>AN: Just to be clear, dragon's blood has magical powers. Since Tom consumed dragon's blood in the last chapter, he was protected from Sybil's flames. And Sybil didn't burn because she had a little bit of dragon's blood in her veins which protected her. Unfortunately (more like fortunately) Edna and Sarah did not have dragon's blood in their systems so they perished.

Thank you for reading and I really really really hope you liked this story! XD


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